


Brothers in Arms

by GiggleSnortBangDead



Series: Sex is Violent [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Chastity Device, Dubious Consent, Face Sitting, Incest, M/M, Oral Sex, Stilinski Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:26:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiggleSnortBangDead/pseuds/GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sheriff asked, “How did you find out?”</p><p>Derek looked inside his cup and grew very still. He had planned only as far as finding the Sheriff to ask him for help. Distracted by other harrowing thoughts, he hadn’t worked out how he was going to answer that question. He couldn't tell him how he'd fucked his son between two other men, even as he cried <em>wait</em>. And he couldn't tell him about the videos still on his phone, dormant and undeleted. He certainly couldn't tell him about trading his son's mouth for his location.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers in Arms

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation to a series. Maybe read that bit first. Or not. I mean, fuck it, you're an adult if you're here (or, let's face it, maybe not) and you don't have to put up with other people's shit. You can do what you like. No one's the boss of you - unless you have a job. 
> 
> Tagged as rape/non-con to be safe.

Inside, Derek could hear the Sheriff, his faint heart beat, his breathing, a small murmured word here and there. He knocked once and the man paused, swearing softly, and walked to the door. The door was wrenched open, and it was so _dark_ inside - all the lights off, save one lamp, and the windows blinded - and recognition took a moment to set in. The Sheriff blinked at the sunlight and the, for a moment, stranger, confusion crossing his face.

“Hale,” he said carefully, like it took a bit to connect the person to the name and he still wasn’t sure. “What are you doing here?”

“Have you been drinking?” Derek asked before thinking.

“I don’t see how that’s any for your goddamn business.” the Sheriff told him.

“You’re right; I apologize. Can I come in? I have something I need to talk to you about.”

Sudden clarity and a wave of emotions surged across the older man’s face. It took him a moment to get the words out. “Is this about my boys?” he choked.

Derek nodded and the man stepped aside to let him in. He shut the door.

“So, you know?” the Sheriff asked.

“I...” Derek exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

Sheriff Stilinski scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and gestured to the small wooden motel table, covered in scattered papers and crossed out lists and one bottle of Jack next to an empty plastic cup. “You want a drink?”

“It’s noon.” Derek told him.

“Is it that late?” the older man asked. “I haven’t really stopped since I got off work last night.” Derek was quiet, amazed that the man had been able to go to work after learning about his sons’ deviancy. Derek couldn’t imagine focusing on anything besides that, let alone a job.

“Okay, yeah.” Derek said, following the Sheriff to the table and sitting down. “A drink sounds good.” And the older man found the second complementary, plastic-wrapped cup and broke the seal. 

He poured as he spoke and then sat down. “How did you find me?”

“Stiles.” Derek stated, taking his drink and looking at it very carefully so that the older man might not see the shame spreading across his face. It didn’t matter - it seeped into his voice regardless. The Sheriff poured himself one. 

“You talked to Stiles.” The man said, his voice carefully even. He tried not to rush out, “Is he okay? I can’t get through when I call and I - I can’t go home.” Derek didn’t ask why, just drank silently as the Sheriff looked at him and slowly lost the small hope that had taken life in him for the second. He looked embarrassed now, which made Derek feel a bit better. Instead of explaining, he asked, “How did you find out?”

Derek looked inside his cup and grew very still. He had planned only as far as finding the Sheriff to ask him for help. Distracted by other harrowing thoughts, he hadn’t worked out how he was going to answer that question. He couldn't tell him how he'd fucked his son between two other men, even as he cried _wait_. And he couldn't tell him about the videos still on his phone, dormant and undeleted. He certainly couldn't tell him about trading his son's mouth for his location. He took too long, thinking of an explanation.

“Stiles and I,” he started, stilted. He downed his drink and set the cheap cup on the table carefully. “I’ve been seeing him for about a month now.”

“You’ve been... Seeing my son.” the Sheriff asked slowly, not giving off any strong reaction yet.

“Yes.”

The Sheriff harshed out a laugh, which Derek thought was unexpected and probably inappropriate. “I... I’m not shocked. It seems like you’re not the only unlikely person who’s been _seeing_ my son these days.”

“I’m not,” Derek gagged, feeling guilty and overhot and like he might be sick at the notion, “I’m not _like_ Stuart or Peter.”

“Who’s Peter?” the Sheriff snapped. Derek opened his mouth, then promptly shut it, jaw clenched tight. “Hale, who’s Peter?” 

He shook his head fervently. “It doesn’t matter-”

“ _Goddamn it_ , Hale. This is my _son_.”

“Peter is,” Derek said, his voice strained. “Peter’s my uncle.”

The Sheriff looked at him a long time and said nothing, because there was nothing to say. Derek didn’t know what the proper response was to that - to any of it - and he sat rigidly, hands on his lap, and didn’t make a sound. He thought, maybe, if he didn’t move physically, the rest of him might stop.

The older man ran a hand through his hair and poured them both another. He didn’t say anything else, seeming to need time to process this information. Derek drank as the Sheriff busied himself by drinking too much and coughing and wiping his mouth as he looked over all the plans on the wooden motel table. 

“I didn’t want to get anyone else involved. It was stupid. I just - didn’t want Stiles to have to go through that.” The Sheriff shrugged and laughed flatly. “Like we could stay here after all of this. We’ll have to sell the house.” he said, gesturing to one paper and then another. “I can put in for a transfer. I can’t make Stiles stay here after all of - this... I don’t know if _I_ could say here after.”

Derek said nothing but nodded, and the Sheriff seemed to blink into consciousness. “None of that even _matters_.” he said, sounding guilty and lost and pained. “I don’t even know why I’m dealing with this. I need to get him out of there. Get them apart. I just-

“Stu will have to be... Maybe institutionalized. I don’t know.” He forced out the words, “ _Arrested_ , I guess, for - You know.” the Sheriff stated. He paused for a moment, and began again. “When I walked in and saw them - I thought he was - I thought Stuart was - _forcing_ ,” the Sheriff shook his head as if trying to dislodge the memory. “Stiles was crying and it,” he swallowed compulsively, “It sounded liked Stu was hurting him. I - I didn’t know what to do.” He downed all of his drink.

“I think Stu wouldn’t have stopped,” the Sheriff said, “If I hadn’t gotten between them. Stiles was embarrassed, I could - I could tell. But, it was like I’d caught him with a girlfriend,” and his eyes flashed to Derek, waving a hand at him, “Or whatever. And Stuart looked so _smug_.

“I was pulling Stiles out, about to call the station, but Stiles kept telling me that I was overreacting and that I - didn’t get it. This was what he wanted. That they actually-

“I tried to talk to him,” the man stressed, like he was trying to assure Derek, “To explain, but Stu jumped in and - God, I don’t even know what happened. One minute I’m trying to get Stiles out of the house and then next my own son’s got a gun on me. He’d been keeping it in the bedside drawer - of _course_ , where _else_ would he keep it? - just in case. That’s what he said, Hale. _Just in case_.

“He told me he’d be calling in someone else - one of _your_ type,” the Sheriff said, like it was a disgusting thing. “To keep an eye on Stiles. I wouldn’t be able to get in without Stuart’s say-so. If I tried before then, he said they’d pack up and leave and, if I tried to interfere, he’d shoot me. And I don’t _think_ he really would, but _I’m not sure_ and I can’t _risk_ it if it means leaving Stiles alone with him.”

The Sheriff scoffed and shook his head at himself. “In my own _house_ , for all this time. How could I not have noticed? How did I let this happen?” He looked at Derek as if looking for an answer, which the younger man certainly did not have. The man poured him another drink. “You skirted my question earlier.” he said, and repeated, “How did you find out?”

Derek felt hot nausea roll over him and his lips tightened. “We have other things to worry about.”

The Sheriff nodded. “Of course. Do you have a plan?” 

Suppressing his urge to laugh hysterically, Derek asked, “Besides just breaking in and killing Peter and Stuart? No.”

The Sheriff stilled, blinked. “Right.” he choked out. “I - No, of course. You think Stuart should be killed.” And, while there was nothing directly accusatory in his tone or manner, he was affronted by the notion and his voice was strained, and Derek immediately felt guilty.

“No.” Derek relented, firmly. “I think we need to do what you feel is best for Stiles. And,” he bit out the name, unable it say it any other way, “Stuart. I’m here to help you. Just tell me what to do and I’m on it.”

The Sheriff stared at Derek for a long time, before nodding once and leaning back in the chair. “Okay.” he allowed, sounding old and tired and done. “Okay.”

* * *

He got home hours later, after sifting through useless papers and trying to think up ways and absorbing the bouts of mindless, superficial, surreal conversation and silence only broken by the sound of sifting useless papers. He didn’t even bother to turn his lights on. He powered up his laptop to do more research, clicking open his browser and, out of habit, bringing up his email, ready to delete some promotional spam.

But he had a message from Stiles, titled _Hey Baby_ , which was awful. He opened it and there was only a winky face in the body and a video attachment. It didn’t really matter what his own bodily response was, how his heart pounded or how he felt himself already sweating and his stomach churning, because he opened it regardless.

It download and played automatically.

“Don’t face me, silly, face him.” Stuart said from the bed. Derek could only see him slightly as Stiles, turned away from the camera, was lifting the hem of his shirt. Stiles looked back at Derek and then ducked his head. He quickly tugged off his shirt, letting it drop to the side. 

The camera was much better than the cellphone, because Derek could see all the little moles he had trailed with his eyes and fingers and his tongue so many times. The dark, bruising marks someone else’s mouth had placed were perfectly shown, sharp in contrast to the paleness of his skin. He could clearly see the boy’s dusky pink, pert nipples and the trail of dark, soft hair curling down his stomach. Long, well lit, perfectly filmed fingers found the button of his jeans and popped it open, pulling down the tab of the zipper, working them down his hips and thighs and legs.

Stuart was behind him, and Derek hadn’t even registered that the other boy had moved, and was reaching around his brother’s waist to grope him over his boxers, over his still-locked cage. Stiles practically sighed back into the embrace, like it was a comfort. Stu’s chin was resting on his shoulder, Stiles’s hand coming to lace and stroke over his brother’s.

“I’ve got you.” Stuart whispered. “I’ve always got you. It’s okay.”

“Yeah.” Stiles breathed out, his eyelids fluttering as Stuart’s hand dipped under his waistband, hand running over his trapped cock. “Yeah, I know, Stu.” 

“It’s not bad, is it?” Stuart asked, eyes still glued to the side of his now-panting brother’s face. “You had nothing to be worried about. Come on, turn around a little.” Stu helped nudge him sideways, Stiles’s eyes only flicking once to Derek’s through the camera. His eyes and hands came to rest on Stuart’s shirt, which was tugged up and deposited next to Stiles’s, and then his jeans. Stuart was already half-hard and, under his brother’s knowing touch, it didn’t take long to work him full. Stiles’s eyes darted nervously to the camera again.

“Slide these off.” Stuart said, snapping the waistband of Stiles’s underwear. He did, but tried to keep his body turned away, not wanting to show off his brother’s hold on him. Stu tilted the boy’s hips towards the camera regardless. The view was still skewed, but the silver metal device was visible. It was definitely what Derek had felt against him just hours ago, though, and he found himself more than a little grateful to not have to see it head on. 

“Look at that.” Stuart said, running a hand over the cage, tugging at the little lock. “It doesn’t hurt?”

Stiles squirmed, winced, but shook his head. 

“I’m not hurting you?” Stiles hesitated and Stuart rephrased. “I’m not hurting you in a way you don’t ultimately deserve?”

Stiles shook his head again. One of Stuart’s hands came to rest on his cheek, thumb swiping almost tenderly over the side of his face.

Softly, he asked, “And who do you love?”

“You.” 

Stu smiled - more like bared his teeth - looking firmly at his blushing brother. “Say it again.”

Stiles seemed tentative but admitted softly, “I love you.”

“That’s right, baby.” Stu said, his hand still on his brother’s metal cage.

Stiles looked feverish, his face was so pink, his whole frame nearly trembling against the other boy, as his eyes flickered to Derek’s with some unreadable mix of emotions. He ducked his head and asked, “Bed?”

“Sure.” Stuart nodded, letting himself be lead there. “Hands and knees.” and Stiles positioned himself on the bed and Stu repositioned him so he was directed towards the camera. Stiles was about to protest, but his brother shushed him and climbed onto the bed. “You don’t mind this, do you, baby?”

Stiles shook his head, face bowed. Stu came to kneel behind him, a hand running down his back “No, it’s fine.”

Stuart’s hand trailed down his twin’s thigh. “Say it again. Look up. Tell our friend.”

“Stu, come on.” Stiles urged, grinding his hips back.

“You wanna come tonight?” Stuart asked, moving away and out of sight to rummage through the bedside table, just out of view. 

“Yeah.” Stiles whined, his eyes focused on his brother out of frame.

“I want you to come too, baby, but you have to be good for me.”

“I _am_ good.” Stiles told him. “ _Please_.”

“God, look at you.” Stu came back with a key and a bottle of lubricant. “It hasn’t even been a day yet and you're _begging_ for it.” He sounded fond as he settled behind him again, tossing the lube aside. It was like he found the behavior endearing, like it was just another reason that he loved his brother. “You’re so lucky you have me to take care of you. Sit up.”

Stiles hesitated and Stuart, while he sounded dramatically shocked, looked all too pleased. “Why are you acting so shy? Didn’t you show him your cage earlier?”

“He didn’t want to see it.” Stiles said softly.

The sound his twin made was something like cooing as he nudged Stiles up and onto his knees to let Derek clearly see the plain, metal cage holding the boy down, and it was so basic, so simple looking that he hated it even more. Stuart shushed his brother’s protest before it was voiced. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m not like him. I like you any way.”

Key in one hand, the other dipped to fiddle with the lock, splaying his fingers over the cage, Stuart smiled. Stiles didn’t smile back, just squirmed, gaze darting between Derek and his brother.

In his twin’s ear, he said, “Beg me to take it off.”

Stiles opened his mouth and then wet his lips. “Come on, Stu. Turn off the camera and I’ll-”

Stu, fluid, graceful, deft, was knocking his twin over and on top of him in a instant - faster than Derek had thought humanly possible. Stiles, now on his back, lengthwise to the camera, seemed to think similarly, because his breath was punched out and, in the moment after, he was glancing over to the camera, as if looking for someone to share in his confusion.

“Come on, baby.” Stuart crooned, leaning forward to kiss him, under his jaw, below his ear, down his neck and chest. “Beg me.” 

“Stu, no.” Stiles said, his voice weak, wriggling under him, one hand catching the other boy’s shoulder to push it back. 

Stuart stopped dead. “No?” he repeated.

Stiles floundered. “Stuart, let’s turn the camera off. Please. I’ll be so good for you - whatever you want, I’ll be perfect, whatever you say - if we just turn it off.”

“Why?” Stu asked, smoothly pulling back to give Stiles some space. His twin didn’t seem to breath any easier with the distance, still looking trapped and nervous. “Don’t want him to see how much you want this?” Stu turned to grab the bottle of lube and began to slick up his fingers. “How much you like it?”

“It’s not that.” Stiles shook his head. “He’s not important.”

“You’re lying.” Stu remarked, his voice hard. “I can tell. Why would you _lie_ to me?”

“Stuart, I’m not-”

“ _Bullshit_.” he hissed, and he reached forward, grabbing Stiles’s legs and manhandling him back onto his hands a knees facing the camera. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. I thought you would fuck this thing - this _infatuation_ \- out of your system.” Stu reached around to grab his brother’s throat, pulling him up on his knees. Derek couldn’t see where his other fingers were exactly, but, by the look on Stiles’s face, they were rubbing at his hole, circling, dipping in just enough to be unignorable. Stiles was turning his blushing, burning cheeks away and Stu was holding him in place, forehead resting against his brother’s shoulder and face invisible. 

“Stu, let go, please.”

“You’re going to beg me to take it off. And you’re going to look at him the whole time - tell him how good it feels, how much you _love_ it. How much you love _me_. And then I’m gonna fuck you until you see black - until you can’t move.”

“Stuart-”

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you won’t even remember his name.”

And Stiles groaned, either at the promise or Stuart’s fingers breaching him or a combination of both, and, while the sound was all pleasure, he had a look in his eyes as he gazed at Derek that seemed too guilty, too sad, too scared. Stuart was crooking his fingers and circling inside deeper.

“ _Stuart_ ,” he whined, his voice gasping out. 

“That’s right, baby.” Stu said into his skin. “I’m the one doing this to you. I’m here. I’m gonna take care of you.”

“I know.” Stiles said mindlessly, his eyes squeezing shut so as to not look at Derek. “I know, I know, I-” and the words broke off into a ragged, breathless groan, his body pulling tight and his cock red, stuck down in its little metal cage. Stu was huffing in amusement against his back.

“What do you want, baby?” he prompted.

“I wanna come. _Please_ , Stu.”

“You wanna come?” Stuart repeated, his brother now rocking back into his fingers and moaning loud. His hand fell from his brother’s throat to his hip, holding him in place, and Stiles head lolled down, hands coming before him to allow better leverage as he fucked back against his twin. “Now, stop that.” Stu chided. “If you want to come, you have to stay up and look at him.” Stiles whined, but Stu was pulling him up by his hair, hissing, “ _What did I just say?_ ”

“Okay.” Stiles nodded, wetting his lips, his throat bobbing frantically to swallow. Stu released him and focused once again on fingering him open. “Will you please take it off?” Stiles ventured.

“Beg me harder.” Stuart said, hot in his ear, hand back on the cage, stroking over metal and flesh.

Stiles whined, lost. “ _Please_.”

Stu tsked. "Getting sloppy, baby. You can do better than that." 

And the noise his frantic brother made was so broken, so desperate, it had Derek nearly whining and Stuart outright laughing. "I don't know _how_ , Stu." he moaned piteously, his head falling to the side again.

"Now, that's not true." Stu teased, and he must have twisted his fingers or fucked up harder because Stiles was making some loud, torn noise and jerking up rigid. "You just don't want him to see how you get."

"No-"

"You don't seem to understand your place yet." and Stu was pulling out his fingers and grasping for the lube, popping it open to slick up his cock.

Stiles glanced back, blanching at what he saw, and immediately shook his head. "Wait, please, Stu, just wait."

"Shh." his twin said, a hand coming to pet down his hip while the other lined his dick up with his brother's hole.

"No, no, Stuart, please." and his voice cut off in a ragged gasp, his eyes pinching shut and his mouth falling to an open _O_ , because Stu was slamming all the way in without another word. Pink blush spread down his neck and chest. There was no moment given to adjust, Stiles wasn't afforded a second to breathe into the stretch. Stu was already thrusting up, hard, gripping his twin's hip to bruise as his other fingers groped for a hold in his brother's hair. Stiles arched back, his own hands flying up to cover Stuart's, his lip caught between his teeth to keep from making a sound.

"How's that baby?" Stu asked, pounding in relentlessly. "That hard enough for you?"

" _Stu_ -" but Stiles didn't seem like he could say anything else. 

"You just have to ask." Stuart grinned, both hands now on the other boy's hips as he started to ram in with more power than Derek had thought the boy was capable of. Stiles's mouth was shocked open again, little noises and whines and panting groans being pushed out without his consent.

"Gonna wreck you baby." Stu promised, barely sounding winded. "Gonna tear you apart and put you back together better because I'm the only one who can."

Stiles almost said something that might have been his brother's name but was too fucked out to be comprehensible. Stu was quickly starting to lose his rhythm, hips hitting erratically, arms coming up to hug around Stiles's torso to keep him upright.

"You want me to fill you up, baby? Make you smell like mine?"

And Stiles couldn't manage out words, but he could whine, high in his throat, and it sounded likes a _yes_.

"Not gonna let any drip out." Stu told him, hips slamming up, close to his releasef. "Just gonna flip over and eat it all out of you - until you can't think of anything but me, until you're _sobbing_ for me to let you come. " and Stu was groaning, his hips slapping up once, twice more, and then spilling inside of him.

Stiles was shaking uncontrollably by the time Stu was pulling out and he nearly collapsed when his brother let him go. But, true to his word and, only barely panting and flushed, Stu was already on his back and manhandling his twin towards him. Ears bracketed by the boy's trembling thighs, he felt at his hole, his voice smug as he said, "You're such a fucking mess, Stiles." His hands slid up to part his cheeks and urge him down to sit.

The boy gasped once more, but it wasn't like any of the broken, punched out sounds he'd made during his quick, hard dicking just moments ago. The sounds was a full-on moan, completely appreciative, his eyes drifting shut, not in shock or pain but over-sensitivity and pleasure. Stu was humming under him and Stiles's mouth was slack open, his eyes shut, one hand coming down in front of them to steady himself.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," he groaned, and then cried out again, his free hand coming up to lightly cover his mouth. His eyes peeked open at Derek, half-lidded and so dark, before harshing out another moan, this one more frantic.

"Oh, Stu," he said, "Stu, I-" and he broke off again to groan helplessly, close to rocking his hips back. "Stu, take it off me." 

Stuart didn't say anything, just tightened his grip on the boy and made him hitch his breath and shudder forward. "Stu," he tried again, voice thinner. "Stu, please, oh, please, oh, please, _oh_ ," and the groan sounded like he was having a hard time keeping it together, like he really was about to start sobbing.

"Stu, I can't," he whined. "I can't _take_ it, take it off, take it off, _please_ , I'll do _anything_." and still Stu said nothing and Stiles was _whimpering_ in frustration. 

"I don't care who sees. I don't care. I just _can't_ \- _Please_ , Stu. You're the only one. I love you so much. I'm your's. It's your's. You're the only one who can." and Derek wasn't sure if Stiles even knew what he was saying anymore, babbling like he was. Derek himself was having a hard time keeping up, and it was too much to see the boy like this. He looked away for a moment, just to catch his breath.

When he fixed his attention back to the video, Stu was up an on his knees next to his brother and unlocking his cage, carefully easing it off and tossing it aside. Stiles was kissing him in the next second with complete abandon - and, until then, Derek had been doing well - not feeling jealous - because what he and Stiles did and what Stuart and Stiles did were so different, and Derek was so much better, that they didn't even compare. 

But Stiles's eyes were shut and his lips were frantic and Derek knew what it was like to be kissed by him like that. He knew what that dedication felt like, and he couldn't watch him suck on his brother's tongue like that, or break away to mewl when his now-free and erect cock was taken into his twin's hand, or come, panting and blissed out, all over someone else's fingers. 

Derek skipped the video forward. He skipped over Stiles taking Stuart into his mouth, his twin's wet with come hand petting through his dark hair. He skipped over Stiles, cock still in his mouth, pushing slick fingers into his brother's hole to work him open.

He started to watch again at the end, when Stiles had his brother in his lap, Stuart rocking slowly on his dick while Stiles held on tight, nearly crying, as he murmured, "I love you, I love you, I love you," like it was all he knew, like Derek was the farthest thing from his mind. 

Which he was.

Stiles came inside his twin with a loud sob, Stuart caressing over his face and hair with a tenderness that Derek didn't want to see. 

"You're mine." said Stuart.

"I'm your's." Stiles accepted, looking exhausted, still holding the other boy in his lap. Sounding shy, he added. "And you're mine."

And Stuart grinned, something lazy and victorious. He looked over to Derek for the first time, and there must have been something wrong with the lighting, because his eyes phased out of focus, light flashing, obscuring the glance. And, Derek missed the smug response, missed the kiss shared between the twins, because he wasn't sure how that was possible. As Stuart stood, leaving his brother to curl up on the bed, and approached the camera to turn it off, Derek tried to get another glimpse of his eyes and couldn't.

It had to be a trick of the light, he thought to himself, as the video started on a loop. 

"Don't face me, silly, face-" and Derek stopped the picture with shaking hands. On his email, there was a second message from Stiles, sent just a few minutes before.

All it said was: _Think we could go pro?_

Derek shut his laptop, the need to hide settling in his stomach. It was childish, because Stiles would still be smiling satisfied and Stuart would still have his trick of the light and they would still be _together_ regardless of whether or not his computer was open. And the images would be there, every time he shut his eyes. And he would have the knowledge that he had watched the whole thing, when he really hadn't needed to. 

The thought of that settled in his stomach a little heavier. It would stay there all night and into the following morning. It would stay so long that Derek would think he might never feel its absence again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Sorry it took so long to get out. Just kinda got blocked. I'll try to have the next bit out, you know, sometime. 
> 
> I hope your day is great!
> 
> Shameless tumblr plug: [My Blog](http://gigglesnortbangdead.tumblr.com/)


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